damage || (𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘦 × 𝘰𝘤!𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘶𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭)

vii

10th September 2018

"I'll see if you keep your promise next time I see your Google Calendar."

_____

Okay, maybe Darryl and Dave were right, I did have too much stuff on my plate. I was just juggling between six different projects and sure, I may take an additional three. Sure, those guys could be mad and constantly bickering about my hectic schedule, but who could they blame on? Haha, it's me, the fucking Virgo.

Cause, you guys want to know why? I'm sick. I'm coming down with some nasty headaches and a stuffy nose. My head's barking and now my words don't make any sense. Udon. No, cream soup. No, wait, chicken, and dumpling. Yes, chicken and dumplings. Wait, never mind. I want a pizza. Okay, pizza. Three pizzas cause this ass to need food to think of a good way to reason with the professor and also Dave.

I just need to grab my phone at the edge of my bedside table and nothing. Wait... nothing?! Where is my phone? Where the hell is it? Is it under the sheets? Nope. On the coffee table? Nah. The kitchen counter? Not there either. And there we go, I already ran out of energy to do anything. Ugh, might as well just pass out and then hope for the best that Dave dropped by any second now. Wait, that's it!

"Dave!" And what followed my sentences was a bang and several stomps, presumably a person running down then ultimately crashing down my door with his arms crossed.

"Did you call for my assistance?"

"Um, is my phone still at your place?"

"Well yes, it is in my— wait a minute. Say it again," he commanded me. He was approaching at an alarming rate and cornering me along the way.

"What?"

"The thirteenth amendment."

"Uh, fuck, what was it again?"

"I knew it! You're sick!" He enthusiastically exclaimed with an 'I told you so' smug face of his, "You always remember the thirteenth amendment from the back of your head like some weird patriotic Southerner." He went to the kitchen and brought out some ingredients from the fridge. Then, he continues to roll up his sleeves, which is a recurring theme now when he decided to help me, a pathetic demon, out.

"I can explain—," I tried to reason but he was still chopping vegetables and I came to the kitchen to observe this being trying to cook. Because let's be honest, do you expect him to be able to step foot in the kitchen, let alone being allowed in the kitchen?

"Explain what, huh nerd? Eden, how many times do I have to tell you that you can't take like 500 projects at once?! Look at you now, my precious little idiot nerd." He preached as he put the vegetable to the pot, grabbed me by the sleeve, forced me to lie down, and proceeded to drown me with blankets," Now, you're sick, you fool, you moron. Like, how could you even possibly think that taking 9 projects at the same time would be good for your mental health, or more importantly your short fragile excuse of a body."

"Hey! I worked hard on this body!"

"Sure you do," he shouted back, and recommenced by serving me tea by the bedside which I graciously snatched and ponder, "I don't count you bullying children at Minecraft as a sport, let alone exercise."

"Hold up, who told you that I play Minecraft?"

"A little friend called deduction," the smell of chicken stock and vegetables saturated the entire room, I can't help but weaken my senses.

"Sure thing, Sherlock."

"Isn't obvious? You have a top-tier gaming PC. Look at that 9th generation, Intel with i9 Core, custom CPU. And next to it is among the best wi-fi I have ever seen in my entire life, I bet that could run Hypixel as smooth as macadamia butter. Besides that, top-notch Blue Yeti microphone with other Razer PC gear. Therefore, an entertainer, Watson."